


The House in the Basin

by Akarri



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: A little spooky, Character Study, Flashbacks, Gen, I have no idea how to tag things that arent super angsty, One Shot, Some Alphonse, Suspense, some Roy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akarri/pseuds/Akarri
Summary: Some memories feel like they are better left forgotten. But for everything that returns from the depths of the subconscious, there is always a reason for it.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 51





	The House in the Basin

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhahh hello, yes, it has been a while.
> 
> Homework, Covid, graduating college, and then the worst of them all: writers block. It hit me hard. I started many new projects since I last posted, but this little oneshot here was the only thing I could get myself to make progress on. I've been actively thinking about what else I should write about; ideally, it'll be something angsty with lots of that good parental content. I'm hoping that finally getting this out into the world will help further motivate me to write something more ambitious. But we shall see. :'D
> 
> Anyway. This is just a thing that came to mind at like 3am one night many months ago. I hope you enjoy it.

It hit him suddenly in the night, as only the vaguest, most obscured memories have any right to do.

A single image flashed across his mind without any warning or preemption, and his eyes snapped open, shocked from the sudden wave of reminiscence.

Nine years ago. He was six.

He was angry and confused.

Mom was sick, Hoheniem had left, and Al didn't understand the situation. Hell, Ed _barely_ did. He endured the fear and worry, the burden of taking care of them both, the fragile, flickering hope against the stacking odds that the wrongs would right themselves.

One day, it was particularly bad. Al made a comment. It was thoughtless and innocent; something along the lines of being excited for Dad to come back; as if that bastard ever would. But Al didn't know. Mom merely smiled, frail and wavering, but with that loving warmth in her eyes that bellied her own fear. She reassured him that it would be okay. But Edward knew better. He was older and he knew better. He didn't have the heart to say it though.

So, he left. He went for a walk, aimlessly, because no one could stop him. Because he was suddenly the man of the house. The responsible one, the able one.

He was six.

Edward walked through the rolling fields, shuffling through the tall grass, and letting his mind exist anywhere besides what was once the present.

He stayed off the path and went towards the tree line that felt so far away when he was so young. He ignored the neighbors that worked in the fields. Cicadas buzzed in the distance, and the sun warmed the earth, interrupted only by the occasional cool breeze that swept through, rustling fields and carrying the sounds of birds chirping nearby.

Ed allowed himself to be occupied by more childlike thoughts - he was exploring an uncharted land, adventuring through the fields to find treasure within the forest. It didn't matter where his mind took him; anywhere that wasn't the daunting reality that he was so ill-equipped to cope with.

But that was when he found it: the house in the basin.

In hindsight, it was nothing more than a shack; an old decrepit shack with moss covered sides and ivy overrunning it. It lied alone at the bottom of a small basin, a glorified ditch, where water gathered when it rained. The thing was lucky that mold had not eroded its base away completely.

But Edward certainly was not interested in judging its appearance at such a young age. He was making a discovery.

He was far from home when he found the house in the basin. Or at least, it felt far back then. But he approached it without much hesitation, peering in through the door that was crooked, held shut at the latch but bending inward everywhere else. He circled it once or twice before ultimately deciding to crawl in through where the door frame in the bottom corner had been the most damaged. He got in with relative ease.

All thoughts regarding his sick mother, bastard father, and younger brother were long gone for a blissful few moments. He looked upon the single room with awe, at all the worthless knickknacks that littered the battered wooden table or scattered across the moth-eaten rug.

Edward did not realize it at the time, but he was in desperate need of a distraction. Perhaps it was selfish of him. Looking back, Ed knew his actions were nothing more than a desperate attempt at self-preservation, though he wouldn't have known to call it that then.

After that day, Edward returned to the old shack almost every day for the following week. Each visit, he would bring more items from home, as if the more of his possessions filled it, the more he could say he owned the dingy little shack as well. He brought a spare jacket, a throw pillow he swiped from the couch, a few toys that were not too precious to leave the safety of his room, and child-sized armful of snacks- or previsions, as he considered them; some fruit and granola bars.

Not much time was spent there whenever he did visit, knowing that Mom and Al would get suspicious if he strayed for too long. He remained at the house for maybe an hour or two at a time, and then would scurry on back, claiming he was exploring or with one of his friends. He had to be careful; it was a secret, after all.

Edward was afraid to share his new hidden base with anyone. It was the place he went to just get away from it all. What would he do if others began to crowd it? And he feared that the more people who knew, the more likely it was that someone would say "no. You need to be responsible, not slack off in the woods." As if he was no longer allowed to have fun and do the things that he did before Mom was sick and his stupid dad was gone.

Little did his past self know then that that would soon prove to be the case. Edward never had much of a childhood, especially after things began to deescalate. He wondered why such thoughts were returning to him now as he stared half-lidded up at the ceiling in his military dorm room in the middle of the night.

A quiet nagging feeling in the back of his head suggested that there was a reason why he forgot about that old house in the basin. He folded his arms behind the back of his head, absently listening to the gentle folding pages of the book Alphonse was reading on the other side of the dorm room and pressed further into the forgotten memories of his past.

* * *

Edward brought a new book to read after about a week of frequenting the old house. He had set up a comfortable corner for himself as he laid on the fluffy jacket he brought earlier, leaning an elbow on the throw pillow, and letting the pleasant sun rays filter through the slightly cracked window to light the pages in what was otherwise a relatively dark area, being sunken further into the ground than most of the house's surroundings. It was as though the window was placed just perfectly for exactly that reason; just for him.

There was a table and a single chair that still had all four legs, but both were a little too big for him to use comfortably. Besides, he would have to move them, as well as the wooden crates that crowded them, to get the proper lighting that he wanted.

He decided then to find a candle to bring next time, which was reinforced when he recalled the clouds he saw far in the horizon during the walk earlier that day across the field and into the woods. But how would he light it? Surely no one would suspect the match box going missing for an hour or so.

He shrugged and flipped to the next page of one of his father's- Hohenheim's (he corrected himself spitefully) alchemy books. He bit into an apple and kept reading.

Time passed with ease as he lulled himself into a state of peaceful concentration, which was something he never thought to consider before he suddenly had to start taking care of others. He stayed there until the sun shifted out of position and dimmed the pages of his book and the rest of the small room along with it. It was only the decreasing light that caused Edward to look up, glance out the window, and decide to head back home. He was pushing his belongings into the far corner when he heard movement outside.

It was the sound of fallen leaves and twigs being stepped on, loudly, lacking the quick-footed grace of a common animal. It sounded human- adult human. It was unfamiliar and different for where he was, and Edward froze as his idle thoughts came screeching to an abrupt halt. He never stopped to consider what he would do if someone else stumbled upon his little haven, but he knew he didn't want to be found. He turned his head and looked out the open sliver of the cracked window that he was able to see from that low angle, but all he caught were the overhanging branches of trees that surrounded the basin.

The movement continued, distancing itself ever so slightly. Ed almost felt relief.

Then a loud bang hit against the decrepit door; the only thing separating the child from the outside, and it took every ounce of willpower he could muster to refrain from crying out in shock. The weak hinges and the old rusted lock that kept the wooden door closed were close to giving out; he could see the door shift under the pressure as the handle was shaken violently. He saw a shadow shift from the cracks.

There was no planning or preparing he could have done, especially then when his brain had shut down from the sudden surge of terror that filled his lungs. His heart was pounding; so much so that he feared he would somehow choke on it if it kept up without respite.

The door was assaulted again from the outside; whoever was trying to get it open seemed angry.

Edward finally got himself to move. His eyes snapped to the only source of protection in the room, which was the table and the several crates and over-turned shelves that surrounded it. He pushed his body weight against one of the wooden boxes that were under the table, moving it to the side as he slipped behind it and curled in on himself, trying desperately to make himself as small as possible. A moment later, he heard the door crash open with a gruff exhale from a voice that he did not recognize.

Heavy footfalls crossed the decaying wooden floorboards, nearing the table - nearing him. Edward clamped both hands over his mouth and shut his eyes. Suddenly his breathing seemed so very loud.

His hands were shaking. His pulse was pounding in his ears and even his heart sounded like impossibly loud drumbeats. He tried to calm himself by breathing more evenly, but each intake was quick and gaspish and he found out with a moment of horror that he had lost all control of his own own shaking limbs and overworking lungs. He could only hope the stranger wouldn't notice.

The footsteps stopped a meter or so away from the table. There was a pause, and then a sudden muffled crash of something being dropped; a heavy cardboard box, he guessed. There was silence. And then a furious growl and a loud boom as a shoe collided violently against something else. The table shook. Edward hunched his shoulders higher, hugged himself tighter, tensing his hands so tightly over his mouth that his nails dug into his cheek.

Thinking back on it, nine years later, he could remember that sheer terror that pierced him so relentlessly as if he was six years old again. He stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room as a quick wave of chills ran down his spine. It was no wonder why he forced himself to forget about it back then.

When the door of old memories finally unlocked, the rest came easy.

Hiding under that old rickety table, he remembered hearing the stranger mumble to himself, but had no hope of distinguishing any words. They were guttural and rough- feral, almost. Based on the sound of his heavy footfalls, the intruder paced the span of the room like a wild beast. But just as abruptly as he had appeared, his repetitive motions stopped, and then he made for the busted door and left Edward alone.

The child did not move from his position under the table for what felt like an eternity. He couldn't unhinge his arms from himself even if he wanted to. Merely reminding himself to breathe took all he had.

By the time the rushing adrenaline calmed to the point where Edward could coax himself to crawl out from under the table, the sky had grown dark. Beyond the cracked and dusty window, dark rolling clouds had taken over, threatening to downpour.

But even as Ed's hands shook and his heart pounded, he spared a moment to consider if it would be safest to bring his book back and risk the rain or leave it to grab another day; which also reminded for a brief moment to feel grateful the intruder had not noticed his small pile of belongings.

But as he turned back towards the table that served as his shelter, his eyes fell onto the unfamiliar cardboard box that sat by its legs. Its edges were worn and the side facing him had a massive dent in it and was badly scuffed by the bottom of a shoe.

The blond glanced back through the now-gaping doorway as if that man would suddenly reappear, then turned back to the box as curiosity won out. He quickly folded the top back and leaned over to look inside.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see at the time, but a long roll of thick rope was not it. He stared for a moment, then shifted it aside to find a pair of boots underneath, that were rather indistinguishable. He would have thought them to be brand new, if it were not for the fresh dirt that clung to the soles.

As he turned the boots over to search further, Edward brushed his hand over what seemed to be a folded plastic tarp of some kind, but what sat beside it made him pause. His hand found the rough hilt of a sheathed knife. Though it was hard to discern based on old memories, it may have actually been a machete.

Had the circumstances been wildly different, he may have enjoyed removing the sheath and trying to cut some sticks in half, or whatever else his younger mind could have taken him to do. But at the time, he had no such interest. His mind buzzed, quietly nagging him to leave it be. He dropped the blade back into the box and closed the cardboard flaps and took a few steps back as he eyed it a moment longer.

Edward didn't know what to make of it at the time. At such a young age, he wanted to assume all of those items could belong to someone who enjoyed camping. Whether it was forced or not, he settled on that, and decided that the house in the basin was the last place he wanted to be.

Cold drops of rain began to fall through the trees by the time Ed stepped over the broken door and climbed out of sunken earth. He spun once to take in the surroundings, primarily to see if he could see any adults around, and broke into a sprint when he saw none. He emerged through the tree line and kept his eyes plastered on his home in the distance, as the warm lights from inside shone brightly from even at his distance. His skin grew cold against the rain and the afternoon wind. His breaths were labored and rough, distracted from the events at the cabin to focus on evening them out. But as he drew closer, he could see the figure of his mother waiting on the porch, silhouetted somewhat by the lights of the house.

He went inside of said nothing of what happened. He said nothing of the stranger who nearly found him, and he said nothing of the house in the basin.

* * *

"Hey Al." Edward began abruptly, cutting through the tranquil silence of night and mildly startling his brother out of his thoughts, based on the light shift of metal he heard from across the room.

"Brother? Why are you awake? Are you okay?"

As he stared up at the ceiling with his arms behind his head, he felt his lips pull into a momentary smile. Always a worrier. "Yeah, fine. I'm just thinking; we should go back home for a bit."

"Oh," Al began, understandable surprised by Edward's sudden desire to head home without much of a discernible reason. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

They were in between missions at the moment. A few hours ago, Edward had every intention of bursting into Mustang's office the following day to hound him for a new lead. Perhaps it was impulsive to change plans so suddenly. Besides, it could be said that he was prioritizing this sudden memory that came rushing back over his goal of reclaiming his brother's body, but he knew a short trip back home would be beneficial for them both. It had been a while. Even then, that felt something like an excuse, but he brushed the concern away; he knew he would not be able to forget the house in the basin again like he had before.

Not long after that stranger broke into the safe isolation he had built for himself, Edward stayed away and was quickly distracted by other things. He wasn't sure if he had ever gone back for his belongings or not. He wasn't sure if that cardboard box was ever removed or emptied.

As Edward blinked into the darkness of their dorm, he told himself not to expect much; or anything, actually. It was a long time ago. Hell, that house had probably fallen to the ground by then. But even so, he wanted to see for himself.

Back then, he was incapable of understanding what the contents of the cardboard box could have meant; but his older self could. And as realization slowly slinked up to him, he fully understood why he had truly forgotten.

* * *

Two days later, the brothers stepped off the train into Resembool station. A few hours after that, Edward stood alone in the center of a field as the sun hung high in the sky, just begging to turn down into its own descent. He looked out at the tree line, knowing that that shack- or at lease whatever remained of it- was in there somewhere. He couldn't remember how far in or which direction exactly, but he was determined to find it.

It was a dry day, very unlike the last time he had been there.

He began marching into the trees, allowing the driving force of curiosity that pulled him out of Central City to propel and guide him forward. He tried to find familiarity in the flora but wasn't able to recognize anything particular useful. He had never paid much attention to the placement of trees or the designs moss drew as it grew up the sides of their trunks. As a child, he had let his feet carry him. Now, he had to trust them to do the same once again.

It proved to take a while longer than he had hoped, but Edward had found the basin without too much difficulty. The trees around it dipped as the roots were constantly enduring the pull of the sunken ground. It caused the subtle appearance that they were pointing down towards his destination.

The alchemist stood at the edge, right before the ground began to dip downwards. In the center of the basin, though overtaken by foliage, was the old cabin. To his surprise, the structure was still standing, through it looked far more ruined that he remembered. Time had not been kind to it, as he took note of the gaping holes that had broken from the roof and the mold that eroded several of the lower planks away. As it were, it seemed incredibly hard to find for someone who was not actively seeking it out. The surroundings trees had grown as well, further hiding the house away behind their long, leafy branches.

He lowered himself down to its level and circled around to find the entrance. Edward noticed as he went that his pulse had only increased since he began making his way there from the Rockbell house, though he was unsure if it was excitement or nervousness or something else altogether. He wasn't sure what to expect, so didn't waste time pondering.

But he did notice rather quickly upon finding the building that it was much smaller than he remembered. The basin as well felt so large and consuming all those years ago. Despite what some people might try to claim, he was much smaller back then as well. Some idle part in the back of his head knew that he would outgrow the memories, and that whatever he found would feel disproportionate in comparison; and yet it felt so strange to be standing there. What once felt like an empty lake now seemed more like a pond. But there was something comforting about that too; he was much more defenseless then. The very ground he stood on or the house itself could have swallowed him up. He would have been at the mercy of that stranger had his hiding place been discovered. But now, he had no such fear.

The door frame was in absolute ruin. The top had sunken somewhat by the weight that fell on it, made worse by elements that worked away at it over time. The sides tilted inwards, causing him to duck to get through it, while simultaneously stepping over the debris that sat in the entrance that was once the actual door. The planks that were once held together had fallen apart, cracked, and splintered. The same door that the intruder had broken down all those years ago.

Even back then, that shack somehow felt separate from the rest of the world. It was disconnected by the busy, ever-changing environment that humans created with their presence. But the house in the basin was alone, untouched, as if stuck in time. Seeing the door get broken in was surreal enough back then, even before he could understand it; but seeing the effects of that action was even more so. It was such a juxtaposition of what that place was; what it stood for.

The interior had been just as overtaken by nature as the outside. Weeds had crawled in through the decaying floorboards and it smelled of mold and rot.

His eyes were drawn to what he expected to see; the old wooden furniture that was all pushed to the side, that he once used to hide, remained. Edward was almost surprised to see it there, seemingly untouched. Though upon closer inspection, he got the impression that one touch to the surface of the table would cause the legs to break into pieces.

However, it took a moment longer than he would like to admit to notice what was not there before.

The decayed, near-skeletal corpse that was slouched in the corner, partially hidden by the pile of furniture.

Edward froze mid-step and stared blankly at it for a long moment.

He had walked in there with a confidence that came from believing he would not be surprised by any state the inside could have possibly been in. He was so sure that whatever he found would be reminiscent of the past in some way. And he still believed that would be the case, if he could pry his eyes away from the dead body that sat almost innocently in the corner; as if it did not want to interfere with Edward's exploration. And yet, there was suddenly no other alternative.

He blinked, gaped a moment, mind rushing to figure out how to respond. With a lack of anyone else to react to, he remained quiet, but shock was evident on his face.

He had seen battle. He had seen people die. He had experienced death firsthand on more occasions that someone his age should have.

But he had never stumbled across a body that had clearly been long forgotten, left in isolation for years in such a secluded, remote area. Though civilization was only a walk away, he was willing to bet that no one had found this corpse before he had. Edward didn't know what to do about it.

His first impulse was to turn around and leave, try to forget.

But he couldn't do that. This was a person.

The figure's skin had been eaten away by bacteria and god knew what else, thankfully enough so that the smell was no longer as horrid as it surely once was. The clothes, frail and ruined by the environment, implied they belonged to an adult man. But there remained frail, dried out hairs on half of the skull, and splotches of what was surely dead flesh scattered around the body. A heavy coat of dust was evident on the clothes, and if he looked a bit closer, Edward would surely find some spiderwebs clinging from the wall.

He breathed a heavy sigh. Edward was averse to create any kind of commotion, but he knew he had to report this to someone. The body had likely been sitting there for years. Based on how much dry, exposed bone there was, he was willing to bet this person died not too long after Edward had been scared away.

He shivered at the possibility that a return visit to recollect his belongings could have ended in finding a recently dead man- or even an actively dying one.

Was he injured? A broken leg perhaps, keeping him from crawling back to civilization before dying of starvation?

Regardless, he would have to report this to someone. It may not result in anything being discovered, but Edward knew his conscious would not allow him to simply walk away and forget yet again.

But even so, he decided with a perturbed grimace, he still wanted to quickly look at what else remained. He forced himself to turn from the corpse to scan the remainder of the cabin.

There were a few smaller items scattered in the corners, not unlike how he had first found the place. But due to how they all withered over time, it was difficult to tell how much always there, and how much brought there by him as a child. A pattern on a dusty, ripped pillow in one corner had faded, leaving in completely unfamiliar to him. Some small plastic toys he found elsewhere were warped and broken and looked completely alien.

However, he did recognize the book.

Even at age six, many of the books he read were alchemy related. But not that one.

He knelt down beside the table and gingerly picked it up from where he had once left it on the ground. It's white cover had been stained brown from dust and dirt, but he wiped away at it, recognizing the familiar drawing of a dog that took up the front. He didn't keep many fiction books for himself at that age; many were given to Al as he grew up. But he remembered enjoying this one; it was an adventure about a boy and his dog. He forgot what they were looking for, but he recalled enjoying their explorations as they saw new lands and met new people.

He smiled down at it and carefully thumbed through the pages, momentarily forgetting about the dead body that rested only a few feet away. Many pages were stiff and stuck together, and Edward couldn't help but feel ashamed for leaving it there alone for so long. But knowing it couldn't he helped, he closed it and stood up, carefully reminding himself not to put it down, lest he forget it again.

His eyes strayed back to the corner of the corpse, though it was thankfully obscured from view as the table and overturned shelves and whatnot stood in between them. But it was then that he recalled the cardboard box that would have been right at his feet. Of course, he looked down to confirm that it was indeed no longer there. He wondered what became of it, and the strange collection of items that were within.

A rope, a tarp, boots, and a knife; and unsettling combination. With all he knew now, his understanding of the world as it was, Edward had to concede that it was very possible that that stranger intended to kill someone.

Edward could have been letting his cynical mind get the best of him. He allowed room for the possibility that he was overthinking it. It could have been just as simple as what his younger self wanted to believe.

Not like it mattered much anymore. But the fact that he recalled those items and then came back to find a corpse did not bode well. He certainly could not discern much based off the remains. There was no rope to be seen or anything of the like that would imply this person was there unwillingly, but given the circumstances, all Edward had was conjecture.

With another slow exhale, his eyes scanned the room once more, feeling the adoration he once had for this place slip through his fingers.

A few short moments later, Edward promptly decided that he wanted to leave.

Perhaps it was shock that kept him relatively calm while in there; the moment he stepped out through the decaying doorway, the reality of what he witnessed bared down, weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He abruptly broke into a sprint through the layer of trees that surrounded the basin, suddenly hit with the feeling that he could not get away from it quickly enough. The large expanse of farm land greeted him as he exited the forest; the sun had began its decent, though still brightly lit the land without a cloud in sight. The warmth did not feel befitting of the sudden panic that festered in his chest.

It was marginally easier to simply look upon a scene and consider what had happened, thanks to his mind being geared more towards the calculated and scientific. Though his connection to the place made things more difficult, his brain still tried to consider the situation rationally.

But as what was supposed to be a jog turned into a panicked run through the field towards town, Edward realized that separating himself from that house allowed his frantic emotions to emerge to the forefront. The entire situation he had found himself in- he wanted none of it.

All of this just because of a random thought that hit him so needlessly in the middle of the night...

Something had intruded on a place that was supposed to remain untouched. It had been defiled.

A quiet, selfish part of him wished he had never seen the body. Hell, he wished the memory of the old shack could have just remained in the deepest recesses of his mind where it was most comfortable. He would have been perfectly happy to remain in blissful ignorance. But Edward knew in his gut that it was too late for that. It was too late to turn a blind eye and return to a time where the house in the basin was nothing more than an echo of an old memory.

But at least he still held onto that old story book from his past. He had nearly forgotten about it, despite still clinging to the worn cover. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, since it certainly was not in any good condition for use. He expected the military to eventually clean the shack out when they remove the body; for whatever reason, Edward didn't like the idea of them taking his old book too.

Swiftly pushing such thoughts aside, he reached the train station which he knew was the only place nearby where he could reliably find someone from the military. He felt childish; just running to an adult to pass his problems off to. He told himself that that was not exactly what was happening. And even so, he reasonably knew that there was no other solution. He refused to simply hold onto the knowledge that he had accidentally found a corpse. There was no benefit. He would gain nothing from it, besides more unneeded stress.

Edward slowed his pace to a brisk walk as he approached the station, hoping in the back of his mind that he didn't look like a frightened child. The station was not very active at that time of day, so it was easy to spot the older man in a black uniform strolling past the tracks. Ed had recognized him easily; the man was always there, basically retired. He was merely enjoying the mundane repetition of his job. Edward and the local kids would listen to his stories from before he transferred to the sleepy town of Resembool.

Edward felt a little bad for sullying his peace.

He knew the man would recognize him, but he still announced his status as a State Alchemist fairly early on in the conversation, as it tended to help speed things along. Once the officer had gotten past the shock of something _actually happening_ in Resembool of all places, Edward was asked to wait as he left to call whoever was next up on the chain of command, before Edward quickly threw in the offer to guide whoever to the site of the body.

The alchemist paced around the station for several minutes. Had there not been clocks posted on every wall, he would have thought an hour had passed by the time the officer returned with an answer; in actuality, he waited for about ten minutes.

But in the meantime, he had no choice but to go back to the Rockbell residence and explain the situation to them. However, he allowed himself a moment after walking back inside to dust off the old storybook and find a shelf for it. The moment he was able to move on from that, ignoring the prying questions he kept hearing in hid head regarding if his efforts were even worth it, he approached Al and the Rockbells.

There was the expected confusion and bewilderment that Ed had somehow stumbled upon a dead body in the forest on his first day back in town. But even then, Edward couldn't help but keep his past connection to the place to himself. He wasn't sure why. He did not fear their reactions or think anything would become of them knowing the truth; but somehow, he felt as if he had to honor a deal he unknowingly made to his younger self.

That young innocent child died not long after he had last visited the house in the basin; he died from the consequences of his own ignorant actions, believing he could cheat death and Truth. The version of himself that came out of that with two metal limbs and a silver watch in his pocket couldn't easily resist the urge to honor the simple, childish desires of his younger self.

And if that meant keeping a petty little secret to himself, then so be it. His time spent with the house in the basin was short lived, but now that the memory had resurfaced, he had also remembered its importance.

* * *

It had grown dark by the time two Amestrian soldiers from the next town over managed to get there. Edward was honestly a bit surprised it only took them a few hours, considering the issue was not urgent by any means, but he supposed the two country soldiers had nothing better to do.

As promised, he guided them across the field and into the trees, to where the basin hid. Along the way, he was asked a few questions about how he had found the body, if he had touched anything inside, and so on. He answered honestly, though the two soldiers did not seem too overly interested. Since the body was several years old, Edward wasn't too horribly surprised.

Though he had been careful to note his path when leaving earlier that day, finding it again proved to be more difficult in the dark.

The soldiers ducked inside the cabin and took a quick glance, and then turned around and basically told Edward to head back to his home. He suspected those two were only sent to confirm that his claim was worth putting any resources into. Edward was sure to gently remind them that he had a personal interested in this case and was not about to let them ignore it.

A few more soldiers arrived in the station the next day. Edward kept close tabs on the situation, although they were not too eager to let him truly get involved. He of course ignored that completely and continued to pry when he could. But not long after, they all disappeared, with the body along with them.

It wasn't until a few days later when the Rockbells got a phone call from the military asking for Edward. He however did not expect to hear Mustang's voice on the other end of the line.

"I should have known you were up to something when you asked for some days off all of a sudden," the colonel said, followed by an exaggerated sigh. "The exact same day you leave, you find a dead body in the woods? Fullmetal, if this is what all of your vacations are like, then-"

"God, enough already," Edward snapped, ignoring the curious look he got from Alphonse across the living room. "How'd you even find out about that?"

Mustang exhaled a slow, mildly amused scoff at the question. Ed could already see the bastard leaning back in his office chair with a condescending smirk; he glared at the mental image of it. "Word travels fast when the Fullmetal Alchemist is involved. I still have plenty of contacts in East City; did you really think I wouldn't hear about it?"

To be honest, he had not considered the possibility. He assumed the issue would be too minor to be brought to the colonel's attention. He supposed that was the price he paid for using his title to move things along.

"I _thought_ it was none of your business. Apparently, I was mistaken. Now do you have anything interesting to say, or are you just trying to waste my vacation hours?"

Somehow, he swore he could sense the man rolling his eyes. "I do, actually. I had Hughes send me the case results so I could have the great honor of informing you myself."

"Great," Edward replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster; which of course was ignored.

There was a pause as Mustang gathered whatever information he had before him. Edward barely refrained from snapping at him to hurry up, only because he knew the colonel would easily use that as an excuse to draw the process out even further.

"Well," he breathed as if he had just leaned back, "it's quite a little story you dug up here. Some military police officers from the next town over helped the investigation team figure it out. That body you found most likely belongs to Jason Reisner. He disappeared from the neighboring town, Kaumary, after a failed kidnapping attempt nine years ago."

"Kidnapping...?"

"Their military police station had kept some dusty reports on him; seems he often lingered around elementary schools. it says his address was unknown; people claimed he lived somewhere in the forest between there and Resembool."

Edward didn't respond. Mustang took the silence as an invitation to continue on.

"Word has it that Reisner was very close to kidnapping a kid from his school one particular day. The theory at the time was that he intended to get a ransom out of it. He got away, but he was never seen again after that. People assumed he fled to another town; but evidently, he never got that far."

"...I see."

"Of course, it's too soon to say with complete certainty. The connections they found could still be nothing more than coincidences. From what I hear, they already cleaned the cabin out. Given the age of the case and the fact that the guy never succeed, it's not a priority. But it's still possible that the body you found belonged to a simple drifter."

"No-" Edward cut himself off to swallow down his apprehensions. "That's the right guy. It's him."

"How are you so sure?" the colonel asked in a tone that suggested he was taking Edward seriously for once.

Even so, he hesitated. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to reveal, especially to Mustang. But at the same time, Edward knew there was not any truly good reason to keep it all to himself.

He looked up and found himself alone in the Rockbell living room.

He sighed. "I uh... the house I found him in the other day- I first found it nine years ago. I remember seeing some strange things in there. He must have died not long after; it's gotta be the same guy."

Mustang _hmm_ ed contemplatively for a moment. "The way you say that, it almost sounds as if you had actually _seen_ him back then too."

"Something like that," Edward drawled slowly. "I never saw him. But I did get a little too close," he added on barely above a whisper, followed by a light cough. "But that's beside the point."

"Oh? Why do I get the feeling that you're leaving some details out, Fullmetal?"

Edward _hmph_ ed indignantly. "My details are none of your business."

In response, Mustang had the gall to laugh, prompting Ed to glare at the wall. "If you say so." The casual indifference in his voice had Edward suspect his intentions. Mustang was never one to let any kind of information get away from him easily, especially when it was something the blond didn't want him to know about. He was sure the colonel planned to get the whole story out of him later. Though try as he might, Ed wasn't gonna make it easy for him; because Mustang was a bastard, if for no other reason.

However, that was a bridge to cross at another time. For now, he replied with an unconvinced scoff. "Yeah whatever, Colonel. Now if that's all, I have some very important vacationing to get back to."

"Oh I'm sure."

The conversation ended after several more unnecessary sarcastic jabs in either direction, as usual. Once it did conclude, Edward exhaled slowly and sunk further into the armchair by the phone.

He listened passively to the light murmur of conversations coming from elsewhere in the house. It sounded like Al was helping Winry with dinner. They were so blissfully unaware of the realization that was currently plaguing his mind; that he was mere inches away from an attempting kidnapper. The very thought of how close he was to ending up in such a horrible situation sickened him. His younger self would have been helpless. Was a ransom really all the man had wanted? Based on the items he found in that box so many years ago, it appeared as if he was prepared to murder someone.

He could have been misreading things. He could have been wrong. Though it sure as hell didn't matter anymore.

Edward tilted his head upwards, absentmindedly tracing the lines abstract shapes that were shaped by shadows cast by the casting sun rays.

* * *

Half an hour later, he found himself standing before it once again: the house in the basin.

But this time, he held a lantern and a bottle of lighter fluid in his hands.

Little light from the risen moon shed through the trees overhead. Meanwhile, the small flame from within his lantern stretched down the basin, gently hitting the moldy wooden boards of the house- or rather, the ivy that stretched over them.

He stepped closer, idly watching the shadows stretch and deepen with every step he took. His eyes shifted up to the roof, riddled with gaping holes and draped with foliage, as he began to unscrew the lid of the lighter fluid.

Edward supposed he didn't have a very extensive stock of coping mechanisms, but this one worked just fine for him last time.

"Brother."

He jumped, nearly dropping the bottle as he whirled around and blinked at the suit of armor that had approached through the trees, quietly baffled that he failed to hear his brother follow.

"Al! Uh- what are you doing here?" He didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed at being caught right before committing an act of arson as one might expect, but he certainly was not mentally prepared for company.

"I thought you were acting a little strange, so I followed you. I wasn't trying to sneak up on you," he added apologetically.

Edward felt himself smile as he reminded his shoulders to relax. "It's fine. I wasn't trying to be especially sneaky, anyway." Subconsciously, he was unsure how true that statement really was.

Alphonse closed the gap between them as his helmet pointed towards the unimpressive shack. "So this is the place?"

Edward exhaled slowly as he turned to look down on the house, sunken into the basin like a forgotten relic. He nodded.

"It seems easy to miss," Al continued while he glanced around the surroundings, based on the quiet squeaking of metal Ed heard after he too turned his eyes back to the building.

He smiled grimly to himself, wondering if his brother was trying to gently pry to figure out just how much he knew and how much was indeed complete accident. Mustang had a point when he mentioned how odd it looked when Ed found a corpse on his first day of a rarely requested vacation.

"Yeah," he heard himself eventually say just to fill in the silence. He had braced himself for the inevitable question of why exactly he was about to burn the building down, but Al was taking his time with it- though Ed did not mind.

As the two of them stood there at the edge of the ground's gentle slope into the basin, he had to wonder why he was so resistant on telling his brother of all people about the story he had with that place. It felt so easy all of a sudden.

He supposed before their mother's death, they were not especially close as they were now; not any closer than any other siblings at that age were, anyway. Before they were left on their own and forced to grow up faster than any child had the right to, they never had to think about it. They just played games and teased each other at the drop of a hat.

When he had first found that decrepit, old cabin, there was more distance between he and Al. Even as they grew so much closer over time, that distance remained when it came to the house in the basin; not for any meaningful reason, but simply because it never had the opportunity to truncate.

It did now, however.

Edward pulled his eyes off of the building and sidestepped over to a fallen log and sat down, setting the lantern and lighter fluid by his feet. Alphonse joined him a moment later.

A comfortable silence passed between them for several beats. The nearby wildlife within the forest was as active as ever, but were easily ignored. Edward thought for a moment that it would have been a nice night for a campfire, but smirked inwardly a moment later when he reminded himself what his original plan was.

He wasn't quite sure what he was waiting for. In hindsight, Alphonse was probably waiting on him too, given that he still did not ask the obvious question.

"I found this place years ago," he began, voice quieter than intended, "before Mom died." There was a quiet groan on metal as Al couldn't resist looking over at him for a moment, taken off guard by the mention of their mother. "I used to come here when I felt like being alone for a while. But once she was gone, I had forgotten about it until just recently."

Alphonse nodded slowly and said nothing at first while understanding sunk in. Then: "I should have known you wouldn't drop everything so suddenly just to visit Winry and Granny," he amiably said in a mildly teasing tone.

Edward felt the corners of his mouth tug into a brief smile. "Yeah, maybe not."

His brother laughed softly, until they fell into yet another stretch of speechlessness. Ed could almost feel the questions undulating off of his brother; just begging to be asked. And yet, he kept quiet. He had to wonder why. Alphonse didn't seem tense or nervous; perhaps he just thought there was a better time to get into the details.

Maybe he was right. He knew he had little reason to, but Ed had not decided to mention his previous interaction with who had turned into the corpse that he had stumbled across a few days ago. There didn't seem to be any particularly prominent reason for it. Perhaps after so long of holding onto what happened alone, he wanted to ease into telling someone else slowly.

Though that was admittedly an odd stance to take, considering he had forgotten about it for the last few years.

"So..." Al drawled slowly, prompting Edward to glance over to him. "You realize you were probably about to start a forest fire, right?"

Ed blinked at him, thrown off guard by the sudden change in subject. He had begun to think that they were just going to ignore his arsonistic intentions. "Wh- no..! I would have controlled it."

Somehow, through an emotionless helmet, Alphonse managed to give him a very unconvinced _look_. "At what point were you going to think it through? Look at how the tree branches are hanging just above the roof. Those would have caught fire in seconds."

"Or maybe it wouldn't have gotten that high to begin with. Considering how old this thing is, the walls would have collapsed way before the fire could reach the roof."

"You don't know that for sure," his brother pointed out, crossing his arms expectantly.

"Come on, I'm not an idiot, Al."

Alphonse did not respond to that, besides being unable to hold back laughter any longer. Edward tried to scowl at him, but his attempts resulted in the two of them laughing together.

"Whatever," Edward eventually said once they both quieted down. "Let's get out of here," he said as he pushed himself to his feet, picking up his belongings on the way up.

"Are you sure? Didn't you come here for some kind of closure?"

Edward cast his eyes over the old cabin. "It's okay; I already got it."

Alphonse followed his gaze, then back to his brother, not quite understanding, but decided that he didn't really need to for the time being. "Alright," he said with a smile in his voice. "Then let's go home."

The brothers began walking out of the forest, their backs and their minds comfortably turned away from the house in the basin.


End file.
